


The Flame Still Burns

by Dorksidefiker



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: AU, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Mutual Pining, Tags to be added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2018-12-26 22:48:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12068526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dorksidefiker/pseuds/Dorksidefiker
Summary: Ultra Magnus would rather NOT discuss Hot Rod -- Rodimus -- at all, thank you VERY much.Or, Ultra Magnus is emotionally constipated, and not everyone is willing to put up with it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Apricots_from_Nara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apricots_from_Nara/gifts).



> Okay, this was inspired in no small part by a great drabble I read ages ago that I can't freakin' find again (it was part of one of those massive drabble collections and I forgot to bookmark it!), so if anyone can point me to the author of the original so i can give proper credit where credit is due, please do!
> 
> The rest was inspired by the fact that Smokescreen really should have been Hot Rod/Rodimus, so I had this weird little idea of Roddy being like a version of Smokescreen who'd had a few centuries to mature.
> 
> Edit: So it turns out we can thank [Apricots_from_Nara](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Apricots_from_Nara/pseuds/Apricots_from_Nara) for this plotbunny!

Wheeljack sidled up to Bulkhead, optics on Smokescreen. The racer was trying to get Ultra Magnus to spar with him and failing spectacularly.

"If the rookie starts saying 'till all are one', I'm gonna offline him myself."

"Jackie, that's _awful_!" Bulkhead still snickered, nudging Wheeljack with an elbow.

"As awful as having to hear Roddy say it before every mission?"

"He was just enthusiastic."

"He was a _pest_. Is there _anything_ worse than a fanboy desperate to get noticed?" Wheeljack made a face, like he'd just gulped down a double ration of Nightmare Fuel.

"Okay, we was a little _over_ enthusiastic. He could still wreck with the best of 'em." Bulkead pounded one fist into his servo. "Remember Nyon? And that Decepticon camp on the edge of the Sea of Rust?"

Wheeljack grunted. "Y'know, after you took off, he started tryin' to get us to call him _Rodimus_?"

Bulkhead barked with laughter, drawing Ultra Magnus's attention. He quickly busied himself with trying to look innocent, but Wheeljack was clearly in a mood, and willing to inflict that mood on the mech most likely to take it poorly. "Hey, Commander, me and Bulk were just talking about the old crew! You heard from Hot Rod lately, _sir_?"

For just a moment, Ultra Magnus's expression was thunderous, but it smoothed out just as quickly. "I made contact with Rodimus two stellar cycles ago. He was in good health when I left."

"That's good, that's good." Wheeljack and Bulkhead both nodded. "Kid's a survivor."

Ultra Magnus made a non-committal noise, turning away. "If he still functions, he will no doubt have noticed the same energy burst I did, and we may hear from him soon. In the meantime, I am certain that you have more pressing matters to deal with than _gossip._ "

"Yes, _sir_."

If Ultra Magnus caught Wheeljack's tone, he chose to ignore it.

* * *

 

There were seekers on his tail.

He could deal with that.

His ship was also a little bit on fire.

He could deal with that, too.

The fragoff-big predicon (which should not slagging exist!) with the wings that was tearing in to his hull?

Maybe not so much.

"Rodimus to Autobot Outpost Omega One! Rodimus to - slag!" Yeah, that was definitely a giant pair of jaws spurting flames hot enough to, if not melt through, then certainly soften up the hull. "If anyone is reading this, I've got a slagging huge _thing_ tearing it's way in and I'm coming down _hard_." It went back to tearing through the now softened armor of his shuttle, one jawful at a time, and _my_ weren't those some big teeth?

"Eat _this_ , ugly." Rodmius waited until the predicon made the hole big enough, then fired twice into the beast's open mouth. It shrieked, shorting out Rodimus's audials, but at least it let go.

Too bad it'd taken out is navigational systems with that last bite. A shower of sparks announced the death of the communications array along with it.

He could deal with this.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are heating up...

"I need a location, Ratchet."

As always, Ultra Magnus was a bastion of control in a sea of chaos. Only Ratchet was close enough to see the way his armor twitched, and to catch the slight flicker of his optics when the distress call cut off abruptly.

"And I'd love to have one to give you. Stop talking and let me _work_." The Autobot signal flickered in and out, still streaking through the atmosphere. "Rafael, patch me in to the Jackhammer's systems. That should give us enough of a boost-"

"Use my ship," Ultra Magnus said, perhaps just a little too quickly.

Ratchet arched an optical ridge, but made no protest. Ultra Magnus was easily as protective of his ship as Wheeljack was of the Jackhammer, and especially disliked any suggestion of hooking it in to the cobbled together systems of the Autobot base. He worried that the human crafted technology might cause lasting damage to his systems. That Ultra Magnus was allowing them to use it now was... interesting.

A mystery for another time. There was an Autobot to rescue.

"-there!" Thankfully uninhabited, deadly cold for much of the ear, the northernmost part of the continent was about to play host to battle as the Autobot signal descended towards it.

"Bulkhead, Wheeljack, Smokescreen, with me." Ultra Magnus swung the Forge onto his shoulder, striding -- not running, but still moving with surprising speed for one so large -- towards the ground bridge. "Ratchet-"

Something in Ratchet's glare must have triggered a self preservation subroutine, cutting Ultra Magnus off.

Instead, he charged through the ground bridge the moment it swirled open, already shouting battle formations.

No battle plan ever withstood first contact with the enemy. Or, for that matter, with a Wrecker.

Rodimus was still in the air, ship hurtling across the sky like a meteor. Ultra Magnus raised his helm and watch it streak onward, chased by seekers.

"Follow them!" Snow and ice churned under Ultra Magnus as he transformed and rolled out, chasing the blazing trail and wishing for the Prime's flight capabilities.

* * *

 

Rodimus had been through worse crashes. A visual sweep of his ship told him that the damage wasn't even all that bad.

A little battered, a little scorched, nothing that couldn't be fixed.

Yeah, he was doing good. He could deal with this.

The predicon landed on top of the ship and spat fire through the hole it had already made. "Oh come _on_!"

Okay, _he_ was still fine, but the interior was shot.

"See how _you_ like it, you overgrown lizard!" Rodimus's internals were already churning, mixing fuel and air, exhaust pipes open and ready. He grabbed the predicon by the head, wary of those snapping jaws, and was suddenly flung out of his ship for his troubles.

"Scrap!"

His plating steamed in the cold air, the snow melting quickly around him where he landed.

The seekers were circling above.

He could deal with this.

"C'mon you slaggers, get nice and close..."

Energon churned through his systems, enriched by oxygen, ready to show the Decepticons what playing with fire _really_ looked like. Servos transformed to blasters, Rodimus raised his arms and fired, trying to provoke them into getting closer. "C'mon, c'mon-"

He could hold it another minute, maybe two. Then it was flare up or burn out.

The seekers took the bait, Primus bless their low capacity processors.

The predicon seemed a bit more cautious. That, or it just liked playing with its food.

Engines in the distance. Coming closer. Vehicons?

He could _not_ deal with this right now.

"Come on!" Rodimus howled. "I'll take you all on!"

The seekers were happy to let gravity do the work for them, bringing them down to land gracefully all around him. Good. They wouldn't be able to fly away fast enough-

The predicon was on him, pinning Rodimus in the melting snow with a single large claw. Its talons dig unto his plating, piercing metal and digging towards the protoform beneath, and Rodimus-

Rodimus screamed.

So did Ultra Magnus, just before Rodimus let the flames run free.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ratchet would never have thought Ultra Magnus was the type to hover.

Ratche would never have thought Ultra Magnus a mech inclined towards hovering.

Micro managing, certainly. Being a pendantic aft? Absolutely. But hovering at the berthside of a wounded bot? Never.

It didn't help that Ultra Magnus was trying to not look like he was hovering. He was _observing_ Ratchet for review later, or taking stock of their limited medical supplies, or-

"Sit!" Ratched snapped, pointing to a clear spot on the floor, dragging Ultra Magnus by the arm. "I want a look at those burns."

Obediently, Ultra Magnus sat down. His optics continued to stray to the unconscious mech taking up the sole medical berth they could fit in the base, even as Ratchet turned his large hands over, gently spreading the digits to check for damage. The paint all along his arms and across his chassis bubbled and cracked from here he had come in contact with the other patient. The armor beneath was warped slightly; on a bot less well armored than Ultra Magnus, the damage would have been far more severe, even crippling.

Ratchet reached for the mesh bandages, glaring at the burns as if they personally offended him. "Your injuries are largely superficial," he conceded, slathering nanite gel on his hands before wrapping them carefully. "But you won't be transforming for at least a week while your armor rebuilds itself. Your plating is weakened and warped, and transformation will only lead to cracking down to the protoform."

Ultra Magnus grunted, both in agreement and in what Ratchet recognized as pain no matter how hard he tried to conceal it, those bright optics still darting to the berth. He suspected there would be no ridding himself of Ultra Magnus for some time.

"And Rodimus?"

On the slab, Rodimus lay unmoving. His armor still pinged softly as it continued to cool, but while they were weak, his vitals were shockingly stable.

The wound was the most worrying issue. The predicon's claw had pierced through his armor, slicing through several fuel lines getting to the protoform beneath. The only reason he hadn't bled out immediately was that damn fool modification that had caused Ultra Magnus' burns in the first place. The fuel lines had been cauterized almost instantly, giving Ultra Magnus the time to call for a ground bridge and carry him straight to Ratchet.

"He'll recover." Ratched focused his attention on coaxing Ultra Magnus' armor back to it's proper shape. "Arms up. Hold still."

" 'He'll recover'?" Ultra Magnus repeated. He sounded doubtful, and Ratchet might has been somewhat less than gentle in popping out the last few dents.

"The wound is already cauterized. I've packed it and sealed the breach in his armor. Between the unjury and whatever the hell he did to cause the flame out Smokescreen described, he's taxed his systems badly. I've got him on an energon drop to help him recover the fuel he literally burned through. His own systems have forced him into shut down. He'll recover." More gel went on over his chassis, followed by bandages slapped none too gently across Ultra Magnus' expansive chest.

"Speaking of recovery-" Wheeljack flung the hanger doors open. "We got his ship!"

"And what's left of the seekers," Smokescreen added. "Which, yeah, isn't much. They're melted to slag." He threw an impressed look at the unconcious bot. "Bet even the predicon's gonna think twice before messing with Hot Rod!"

"Rodimus," Ultra Magnus corrected him, turning a steeling glare on Wheeljack when the mech made a dismissive noise.

Rachet pronounced himself done with Ultra Magnus, dismissing him with a wave. "I'm sure you have something better to do than take up space in my medbay."

* * *

 

The children -- mostly Miko -- had questions. Smokescreen had gleefully and vividly filled them in on what he'd witnessed ("Never seen that predicon book it so fast!"), and Wheeljack and Bulkhead -- mostly Wheeljack -- filled them in on the background, and aside from the occasional reminder that the bot in the berth called himself _Rodimus_ , Ultra Magnus quietly pretended to ignore them while he inventoried the medbay supplies.

For the fifth time.

Wheeljack ignored him, choosing instead to regale anyone who would listen with his favorite Hot Rod stories. Like the time he'd gone meteor surfing with rocket boosters Wheeljack had designed. Or when Hot Rod had attacked roller skates to his pedes and raced through Kaon armed only with a broom, smacking insecticons to get them to follow him. Or when they'd raided one of Shockwaves labs and Hot Rod cutting off his own arm as part of a plan that had ended with both the lab and Seaspray on fire.

Wheeljack was a mech of many flaws, but he was an engaging storyteller. He could keep all optics on him as he spun his tales, gesturing expressively for emphasis.

He was distracting enough to keep even Ratchet's attention, though the medic retaliated against it by pretending to be buried in his work.

Ratchet was still the first one to notice the change in his patient.

"So then Hot Rod grabs the plasma cutter-"

A heavy gold hand, still almost scorching hot, clamped down on Wheeljack's shoulder.

"It's... _Rodimus._ "


End file.
